The Perfection of a Malfoy
by heartsn'minds
Summary: Draco Malfoy reflects on his life at the ripe age of fifty; looking back on his successful corporate career, his rise to prominence, his family...everything about him - everything about it - was perfect. So what if his mind would drift back to a green eyed Gryffindor every now and then? It was nothing more than a memory, after all. Nothing could mar the Malfoy perfection.


**Rated 'M' because of a tiny bit of swearing :) This is a bit of a drabble on Draco's fears of breaking away from tradition.**

* * *

I've always loved him. Yes, indeed I have. I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, have always been in love with one Harry James Potter. Was it true? By Merlin, yes. Was it appropriate? By Hades, no. Should I ever act upon it? Not if I wanted to keep my title as heir and my status as 'mentally sane' in the pureblood society.

Potter doesn't know - and I'd sooner apologize to Weasley than have him ever get wind of the fact that I have even the smallest inkling of affection for him. Ugh. I suppose fate was upset that I was perfect in every other aspect and just had to have me fall in love with a naive, goodie-two-shoes Gryffindork - who was _Potter_ of all people...of all the luck, really…I suppose it could have been worse. I could've, say, not been trained in the arena of politics and my mask could have slipped in front of him while we conversed and he could've known...but as it is, I am a perfect Malfoy. Our facades are always on - even in the presence of family.

Father doesn't know about my queerness, and should he ever then I know that he'll ship me off to St. Mungos for an evaluation sooner than you can say 'profit margin'. After all, if I were to love a man then where would he get his perfect pureblooded Malfoy grandchild? Who will overtake the Malfoy name after I'm gone? We had rules to adhere to, Draco, he told me: we must always abide by these rules for "we are the perfection of the Wizarding World. We are superior to them. We have every right to breed and create our perfect children because without us, there would be no speckle of true beauty and sense in this world".

My father was a modest man. He, after all, only spoke the truth.

I haven't always been a batter for the other team, let me assure you - in fact, during fourth year I was absolutely sure that I would marry one Fleur Delacour - until she somehow got entangled in the poorest family in the Wizarding World. Such a shame - one of the true beauties left in the world and she decides to waste it all upon a brood of pale skinned, freckle faced red heads. Still, I held out some hope for her younger sister, Gabrielle, after all, she was just as lovely as Fleur and only a year younger than I - we could marry the moment she turned seventeen and everything would, as always, fall into place.

And so I decided to pursue her.

It was simple, really. Playing the kind, handsome charmer to a blushing young girl (she was thirteen, just four years younger than Fleur and a year younger than I); giving her a box of chocolates or a compliment in her native tongue. She became spellbound with me - that much was apparent - until that blasted Potter had to swoop in and save her life during the Triwizard Tournament. The moment that overly bold git-head had decided to do that, Gabrielle decided she didn't want a perfect, pureblood Slytherin heir, oh no: she wanted a glasses wearing, muggle loving, half-blooded Wizarding savior.

And the idiotic fool was unaware of it! He was pursuing the very well endowed (although hopelessly faint of heart) Cho Chang and was completely, _completely_ ignoring the chance to mate to a quarter-Veela! The imbecile! That was when I began my tailing of Potter - I would win back Gabrielle by exposing to her every flaw Potter had. A very simple plan. Nothing was supposed to change. I was simply supposed to end up with my intended bride, Potter could go screw Chang, and nothing would be out of place.

But of course, everything just had to fall _out of place_.

I began noticing things about Potter, subtle things. Small things. How green his eyes were, how charming his smile was, and how endearing his stuttering could be when Snape made him squirm. How smooth his skin was, and how Quidditch may have done him some good after all because he was _very_ well toned (so I may have..._observed_ him in detail during my mission but it was necessary, of course). I chalked that all up to astute observations of a determined suitor for Gabrielle but never in all my years of living would I have suspected that I enjoyed him being near me. That I savored the way his hand would brush against mine, or the way he would address me - short, sweet, and simple.

We never truly had conversations per say, but after the war he did soften up to me quite a bit. I suspect it was because he knew I had joined the Death Eaters unintentionally but there had to be something more to it than that (or perhaps I was looking at things with a far deeper analytical eye than needed). Re-doing our Seventh Year, we managed to be civil with each other and since Snape was dead, Slughorn taught but he had kept all of Snape's former seating charts and partner arrangements.

Which meant I was still with Potter.

Only this time, when we did our potions together, I no longer mocked him relentlessly and he didn't scowl so deeply whenever he caught glimpse of me. We were on formal terms, yes, but did that stop the butterflies from erupting in my stomach when I handed him the vial of bog's smog and his hand grazed against my own, for just a fraction too long? We began a banter of sorts after. Simple things, really.

* * *

"You're going to melt our cauldron if you keep stirring the mixture like it's Medusa's poison," Draco drawled as his startling gray eyes fixed themselves upon the Wizarding Savior, who, for the life of him, still could not brew a decent Confounding Brew to save his own hide.

The blonde smirked.

"Just keep laughing it up, Malfoy," the darker haired boy muttered under his breath, "you realize your grade's at the stake here too, right? Slughorn's going to deduct points from _both_ of our grades." Harry pointed out, desperate for the blonde Slytherin help him out. Though Harry may deny it to the next century, Draco Malfoy was something of a potions prodigy and being paired up with him was a sure fire way to an O - unless, of course, he hated you and wanted you to fail. Somehow the damn git had figured out how to screw up Potter's grade for the past six years while maintaining a perfect O average.

_It's just because Snape adores his little 'snakes' and hates my guts_, Harry mused internally as he kept up his frantic stirring pace until he felt a gentle pressure on his arm.

Snapping his eyes upward, Harry's face morphed into one of confusion when he saw the lean blonde's hand tugging back his arm. "Stop mixing like that Potter, seriously. You're ruining the simmering of the witch's ear and at this rate, the viper's fangs will disintegrate at a much faster pace than needed - and we'll be left with a pot of green..." peering into the cauldron again, Draco made a face, "slimy goo."

"Did you just say 'goo'?" The brunette male asked, voice tinged in surprise and amusement at the usually eloquent and sophisticated blonde's crude vocabulary word. "I thought those plebeian words were beneath you."

Usually Harry's mocking tone would have earned him a jinx to the legs but today it was filled with something bordering on...amusement? The taller boy smirked.

"I'm full of surprises, Potter. Now back away and let the master take control before you kill us both with the fumes you're causing."

"Hey," Harry held up his hands in mock defeat before stepping away, "I was just the catalyst for what was happening here. Don't shoot the messenger."

The blonde allowed another smirk to grace his lips, "you're a right shit messenger, Potter."

"Your one to talk, Malfoy."

* * *

Since that day onward, we had been pleasant to each other. I suppose after the entire aftermath of devastated families and broken homes, the self righteous Gryffindork decided that even beings of complete, and I quote this from him, "evil", deserved a second chance.

Maybe it was because he felt sorry that I had lost my extended Black family - the stupid arse should've realized that I didn't meet my aunts more than what was needed because one was a psychopath and the other married a muggle - and felt some sort of bond with me (after all, Sirius Black, my murdered uncle, was his godfather). Whatever the case, we became somewhat close in Seventh Year.

From the teasing to the subtle touching...he had such soft lips too.

As Head Boy, I had been put in charge (along with the other heads) of making the Yule Ball a success and because of the heavy workload, McGonagall had handed me Potter to 'assist'. She was probably just trying to ease the still heavy tensions between Gryffindors and Slytherins but I didn't care because that night, Harry James Potter, the pure and good Savior of the World, kissed my cheek.

Unintentionally of course.

We had been hanging decorations and, being the noble one he was, he decided to place up all the tangled holly (he was also stupid not to cast a few protection charms on the ancient ladders) while I dealt with the ice sculptures. When I heard him yelp in surprise, I turned just quick enough to catch him tumbling off the ladder (he wasn't graceful, no, but he was endearing when he messed up). Just as I'd caught him, he'd tried to stable himself - as if ready to brace for impact upon hitting the floor - and tilted his head upward, his lips meeting my cheek.

We'd stared at each other for a brief while before I walked right out of the room.

* * *

What a fool I was. Am. However you wish to put it.

As I have lived (and continue to live), I have never, ever failed at anything I have done. I overtook the family business, Malfoy Ecumenical Corporation (MEC) at age seventeen; graduated from Hogwarts at top of my class and was named valedictorian. At age twenty three everything spun into orbit: my first born son, Erebus, was conceived and just two years later, his brother, Gabriel arrived into the world. When I was thirty four Erebus started his first year at Hogwarts and by the time I was forty one, he had graduated from Hogwarts top of class, valedictorian and ready to inherit the title as Head of Malfoy. I was forty three when Gabriel graduated, second in his class and ready to begin his rise to becoming Minister of Magic.

I am now fifty years old, as the unofficial Decreer of the Malfoy Family and everything I have ever done has fallen into place, everything has spun into motion. I have my children, my grandchildren, and the Malfoy name stands as one of the greatest and most prominently powerful ones in the Wizarding and corporate world. I am a Malfoy. Everything about my life has oozed perfection. Marrying Potter would have surely ruined all that.

* * *

May 19th, 2002: Draco Lucius Malfoy marries Gabrielle Marguerite Delacour

October 3rd, 2004: Erebus Draco Malfoy is born

June 14th, 2006: Gabriel Henri Malfoy is born

* * *

August 1st, 2001: Harry James Potter marries Cho Li An Chang

May 5th, 2004: James Hadrian Potter is born

January 21st, 2007: Sirius Orion Potter is born

March 1st, 2009: Li An Lily Potter is born

* * *

**A/N: This is a brief drabble on how Draco wishes he could be with Harry but knows it will earn him the eternal disapproval of his family. Because he's afraid of losing everything he has ever known, he convinces himself that pursuing Gabrielle until the end and marrying her was for the best, lest he ruin his 'Malfoy perfection'. It's a very subtle angst piece, if anyone can pick up on it.**

****I am not against homosexuality in any way, this is just my perception of Draco's beliefs on it. **

******Leave a review!**


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